


Red Roses, Too (DISCONTINUED)

by orphan_account



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Emetophobia, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Tags May Change, Trans Ben Hanscom, Trans Female Character, hanahaki, i was gonna wait to post this but i got impatient and the next part is gonna be fun, im only tagging richie and eddie bc this is a reddie fic but benverly is there too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie Tozier was nine years old when he met Eddie Kaspbrak for the first time. Eddie stood too short for the spinning seats on the playground, and Richie was just tall enough for them. So, Richie being Richie, he asked if Eddie wanted help getting up. At first, Eddie had refused and huffed out that he could jump up on his own. Richie watched him struggle to succeed with raised eyebrows, and laughed when he admitted defeat and asked for a push.





	Red Roses, Too (DISCONTINUED)

1

  Richie Tozier was nine years old when he met Eddie Kaspbrak for the first time. Eddie stood too short for the spinning seats on the playground, and Richie was just tall enough for them. So, Richie being Richie, he asked if Eddie wanted help getting up. At first, Eddie had refused and huffed out that he could jump up on his own. Richie watched him struggle to succeed with raised eyebrows, and laughed when he admitted defeat and asked for a push.

  Richie held his sides and Eddie stood on one of his knees before he could straddle it and spin a little. Richie had to keep his hands on the seat so Eddie didn’t fall off, but from that day on, they were attached at the hip. At first, they were _Richie and Eddie._ You never found Eddie without Richie close behind him, and vice versa. But the day they became _RichieandEddie_ was the second day of sixth grade, when Richie decked Henry Bowers for calling Eddie a fag, and ended up breaking his nose. Richie landed himself in the hospital with a broken foot because of it, but after that day, no one dared to fuck with Eddie when Richie was around.

  They became _RichieandEddie and Bill_ when Bill Denbrough approached them and stuttered out that he didn’t have anywhere to sit, and Richie replied in a shitty “Davy Jones” accent, “Sit ye ass down or be gone, ye wench!” Being _RichieandEddie and Bill_ was fun – Bill brought to their attention a couple of areas around Derry that neither of them had ever been before. Mainly the Barrens, where they spent most of their time mucking around and building shitty dams that were always washed away by the next storm.

  They became _RichieandEddie and Bill and Stan_ when Stanley Uris didn’t have enough money to get a popcorn at the Paramount. They were going to see _Pet Sematary,_ and Stanley was in front of them, so Richie passed up enough change for him to scrape by with it. They all bonded during the pre-roll trailers, talking about shitty horror novels and the ocean and birds and almost forgetting that they were in a cinema until the lights dimmed and people started shushing them.

  They became _RichieandEddie and Bill and Stan plus Ben_ when Ben Hanscom was being chased by Henry Bowers during a sweltering day in June, and he ran through the Barrens. They were thirteen at the time, and Henry had grown to be many inches taller than Richie, and he wasn’t afraid anymore. Ben had been the reason Henry was held back, which they found out while Eddie dressed Ben’s wounds. Richie was hesitant at first, as Henry being held back was part of the reason he’d been able to shit so much on him and Eddie. But, a couple hours and more than a few soft drinks later, he was calling him Haystack and throwing his arm around his shoulder like he’d known Ben for years.

  They became _The Losers Club_ only a few weeks later when Beverly Marsh and Mike Hanlon found each other while hiding from, guess who? Henry Bowers. They were hiding in the same place and at first she had hissed at him to get lost, but when Beverly realised what was happening, she stopped and huddled against him. The others had found them when they were trying to get out of the rain. Ben went red when he saw Beverly and Bill’s knees nearly buckled when he saw Mike.

  Richie was quick to adjust to them, and proudly stated that they were a club of losers, and then he called them The Losers Club. It took a while, but it stuck. The seven of them bonded faster than anyone would have guessed.

  Mike was weirdly into history, Bev was weirdly into fashion, Ben was weirdly into architecture, Bill was weirdly into horror stories, Stan was weirdly into birds, Eddie was weirdly into keeping tabs on the celebrities he had the hots for, and Richie was weirdly into voice acting. They all had their _things,_ and they were all obsessive over their _things,_ but it was what made them them. Ben helped with the dam, and when they went to the Barrens, sneakers slicked with mud and jeans rolled up to their knees, they cheered upon seeing that it had kept under the pressure of the rain and wind.

  In the early nineties, Richie, Bill, and Mike shot up past six foot. Well, Mike was six foot, Bill was six foot one, and Richie was six foot two. Bill swore he was six foot two, but Richie never let him live down that he was half an inch taller. Eddie stayed at a solid five foot three, which pissed him off.

  In junior year, they all got high in Richie’s basement, and Richie and Eddie made out. Everyone made out, actually, but Richie and Eddie stayed together that night. They were still _RichieandEddie,_ and they always would be.

2

  October of ’93 was hard for Richie Tozier. He spent most of it in the hospital for pneumonia, Eddie at his side donned with a surgical mask. He’d nearly died, and for about two months, Eddie didn’t let him go anywhere alone or underdressed. Eddie was always at his house, making sure he took his meds at a scheduled time, making sure he was eating okay.

  A week after Richie made a full recovery and Eddie _finally_ trusted him to be alone, Richie got sick yet again.. But it was a different sort of sick. He hadn’t been leaking snot or coughing up phlegm, no. What he was coughing up was flower petals.

  He called Stan with trembling hands and choked out that he needed to come over. Stan was there five minutes later, which meant his dad has been speeding, which meant he knew it was serious. Richie was shaking on his bed, knees up to his chest and arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes were squeezed shut, his throat was raw, and his ears were ringing. He jumped when he felt Stan’s hand, but he didn’t move.

  “Rich? Richie, hey,” Stan said, voice soft and concerned, “you good, man?”

  “Stan,” Richie whispered. He looked up at Stan, who frowned. “I…” he shivered and looked back down. “I threw up this morning.”

  “Seriously? I thought you were better, Richie, do –”

  “It was rose petals,” he added quietly. He slowly let his knees fall down so Stan could wrap his arms around Richie. For the first time in a long time, Stan was stumped. He usually knew what to say, but he had nothing. He almost didn’t believe Richie, thought that Bill was hiding in his closet with a camera, or something. But Richie’s closet door was open and Richie was starting to cry and Stan knew.

  “Richie… _fuck,_ Richie, are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” Richie laughed. There was no humour in his voice. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I think I know the difference between, you know, normal vomit versus blood and fucking flowers.”

  Stan’s thin fingers traced small shapes on his shoulder. “Who, uh…” he thought his words over for a moment. He could say, _“Who are you in love with who doesn’t love you back?”_ or he could just ask who he thought it was. Richie would laugh at the first one and probably cry more. He figured he’d actually find out if he went with the latter. “Who do you think it is?”

  Richie froze. He hadn’t even fucking _thought_ about that. He was too busy, you know, _puking flowers._ As you do. He sighed shakily and shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he mumbled. He sniffed softly and wiped at his eyes. _Bill? No. Mike? Probably, he’s hot. Stan? No._ He froze. Everything froze when he realised who it was. His ears started ringing again, and his heart started racing. “Eddie,” he whispered. He turned back to Stan with wide eyes. “Eddie,” he said again, louder. “I’m in love with Eddie _fucking_ Kaspbrak.”

  A grin spread across Richie’s face, and a mirroring one spread across Stan’s. It fell quickly, however, when Richie realised what that meant. _He doesn’t love me._ He looked back down at his hands, and Stan’s grin fell. “You ok – oh. _Oh,_ Richie…”

  Richie took a deep breath and he let it go slowly. “It’s fine,” he laughed softly. “He… He’s too good for me, anyway.”

  “Richie, you fucking idiot,” Stan snorted. He shoved Richie’s shoulder a little. “No he isn’t. He stayed with you for weeks in the hospital. He’s your best friend. Maybe this’ll pass.” Richie knew Stan was right. He knew either he’d fall out of love, or maybe Eddie would fall _in_ love, (he figured the former was more likely) and he hated that.

  “I… I need to think. I’m gonna go take a walk,” Richie mumbled. “Is your dad still outside?”

  “Maybe, I –”

  Richie stuck his head out the window and he nodded. “He is. I’m sorry, Stan. I know you just came over, but I… I need to think. Please, just – thank you, Stan, but –”

  “Richie,” Stan said. He grabbed Richie’s cheeks. “It’s okay. Be careful, okay?” He hesitated before kissing Richie’s forehead. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.” Stan sighed softly and patted his cheek before walking back out of Richie’s room.

  Richie stayed where Stan had left him, his hands trembling and his heart racing. _Eddie doesn’t love me. Eddie doesn’t love me. Eddie doesn’t love me. Eddie doesn’t – (“Breathe.”)_ Eddie’s voice rang through his head. _(“Breathe, Rich. Five things.”)_ Richie looked around and counted five blue objects: the stripe on his flag, his laptop, the spine of his biology book, the pocket on his bag, and the pen resting on his bed.

  Richie sighed shakily and he looked out the window. Rain was dripping down the window, wind was making the trees sway gently, and he could hear gentle whistling through the pipes. _Maybe,_ he thought for a moment, _Stan loves me?_ He shook his head and rubbed his arms gently. He turned back to his bed to look at the clock sitting proudly (crookedly and probably off-time) on his bedside table. He pulled his shirt off and replaced it with a hoodie that hugged his shoulders but hung off his chest.

  He grabbed his smokes and his lighter and shoved them into his pocket. He pulled the hood over his head and ducked out of his room. “Richie? Honey, where you goin’ off to? Stanley was just here –”

  “Just for a ride. I’m not feeling so good,” he replied quickly.

  Maggie frowned and nodded slowly. “You take your meds this morning?”

  “Yeah, Mom.” He pulled his sleeves over his hands and he started fluttering his fingers.

  “Okay… Be safe, Richie. Don’t stay out too long.”

  Richie nodded and he hesitated before hugging his mother. She didn’t question it, she just patted his back and held him until he let go. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back in less than a couple hours. If I go to someone’s house, I’ll call you.” Maggie nodded and patted Richie’s cheek before turning back to the oven.

  Richie slunk past the TV, opened and closed the door quietly, and unhitched his bike. He swung his leg over it, put his right foot down, and then pushed forward. He let the wind nip at his cheeks. He let his eyes slip shut. _Eddie Kaspbrak. Seventeen, almost eighteen. Class of ’94. Asthmatic. Stronger than people think. Crazy fucking mom._ He chuckled a little and didn’t notice the first raindrop that fell on his face. He didn’t notice the rain until it started pouring, and his bike ran through a puddle. His shoes were drenched in dirty water, and he had to stop to check his tires as it became harder and harder to ride.

  He cursed loudly when he found a rip in the tire (he didn’t know how it could have _fucking_ happened – the rocks weren’t that sharp on the roads.) and looked up at the sky. “Yeah, you’re really fucking me over today, aren’t you?” He didn’t know who he was talking to. He sighed softly and pulled it along as he walked back. _Where the fuck am I?_ He paused to look around. When he pulled his glasses off to wipe them on his shirt, lights coming up the road caught his attention. He shoved his glasses back on, smudgy and still wet, and groaned again.

  Eddie and Sonia were rolling up from the pharmacy. Richie’s heart started pounding and he started panicking a little. _What if he sees me?_ His throat started aching, and then his chest, and then – he turned around and knelt on the road to throw up. His ears were ringing, his eyes were squeezed shut, and he heard a very faint, _“Stop the car!”_ He felt one small, warm hand on his shoulder and another pulling back his hair. “Breathe, Rich,” Eddie said. “Breathe. You’re okay.”

  Richie figured the only reason Eddie wasn’t freaking out more was that the petals were visible. They were thin this time, not rose petals, and Richie couldn’t tell what they were. He didn’t really care. “Richie. Richie, come on, five things. _’Chee.”_ Richie nodded and he squeezed his eyes shut. _The rain. The thunder. Sonia’s car. Eddie’s voice. Eddie’s breathing._ “You okay?” Richie nodded again.

  “C’mon. You’re coming with me, Rich, we need to get you dry.” Richie tried to rasp out Eddie’s name, but Eddie shushed him. “You can call your mom after we get you a shower and some Ibuprofen.” Eddie pulled out a napkin, or a handkerchief, or _something,_ Richie didn’t know where from, and wiped at Richie’s mouth. He looked back down and frowned, muttering something about not knowing Derry could grow daisies in the winter.

  Richie let Eddie bring him to the car. Sonia looked him up and down, then at Eddie, then back at the road. He heard the trunk open, a small thud, and then heard it close. He heard the passenger car door open and he heard it close. He heard the gentle, “You okay?” and he nodded. He heard Eddie whisper to his mother, he heard her sigh, and he heard when the car started purring louder and felt it moving.

  Richie kept his arms around his stomach and his eyes closed. He didn’t realise he was mostly asleep until he felt Eddie pull his glasses off of his face. He didn’t get to see that Eddie was looking at him in rear view mirror, making sure he was okay. He woke up fifteen minutes later (Eddie made his mom drive around a little longer so Richie could actually rest) when Eddie opened the car door and had to catch his head to make sure it didn’t fall.

  “Rich, hey,” Eddie’s voice was soft. “C’mon, bub. Let’s get you inside.” Despite being just over half Richie’s height, he kept Richie steady and helped him up the stairs and to the bathroom. “You know how the shower works. I’ll find… something for you. You probably have clothes here. Get cleaned up.” Richie went to turn away, but Eddie grabbed his wrist. Richie’s body exploded with heat. His chest stopped hurting, his throat cleared up, his mouth didn’t taste like metal. He felt okay. When Eddie let go, Richie tried to ignore the warmth draining out. “Be careful,” he said. “Don’t fall.”

  He left and Richie stripped down to his birthday suit. He ignored the burn scars he saw in the mirror and stepped into the shower, suppressing a moan when the heat hit his clammy back. He rubbed his hands over his face and he sighed shakily. _How could this happen? Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak._ He rubbed shampoo through his hair mindlessly. _I’m just, oh, you know. Throwing up flowers and blood because I’m in love with my best friend. All right. Cool._

He conditioned his hair quickly, stepped out of the shower, and looked around. A towel on top of a pair of sweats and one of Richie’s hoodies sat on the counter. He dried himself off, stepped into the clothes, and stared into the mirror. He leaned forward and curled his lip up to look at his teeth. Front teeth that had earned him the name Bucky Beaver stood proud, some crooked teeth joining them along the bottom row and a couple on the top. _Is it my teeth?_ He let his lip fall back into place and looked at his eyes.

  He had eyes that were normal sized – when they weren’t behind his stupid fucking glasses. Stupid fucking coke bottle glasses that snapped too easily, stupid fucking coke bottle glasses that made his eyes enormous. He wasn’t even Four Eyes. _Is it my eyes? The glasses?_ He looked down at his glasses. _I look better with them off, but I can’t see for shit._

Richie looked away and started rummaging around for the (his) spare toothbrush. He found it and, with trembling hands, squeezed toothpaste onto it. _It’s the teeth. If I get Invisalign, or something. Braces._ He spat the froth out and wiped his mouth, then looked back up at the mirror. _Maybe if I cut my hair? Straightened it?_

He walked away and closed the door quietly. He felt his way along Eddie’s wall to his room and his hand rested on the doorknob before he pushed it down. “Eds?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft. He walked through Eddie’s room, arms held out dumbly. “I need my glasses.”

  Eddie laughed quietly. “You’re really that blind?” He held a hand out and pressed it against Richie’s chest. “Here.” He shoved the glasses into his hands. “I re-taped them. You need to get new ones soon.”

  Richie laughed shortly. “You don’t say?” he rolled his eyes as Eddie shoved a water bottle toward him.

  “I’m serious. How’s your throat, asshole?”

  Richie uncapped the water bottle and he looked down at Eddie. _It can’t be him. There’s something between us, always has been. But maybe I’ve been reading everything wrong?_ He sighed softly and plopped down on the bed. “Fine, I guess. Sore.” _Is it because I smoke? His dad had cancer, maybe he thinks it’s offensive, or something._

Eddie and Richie made eye contact and kept it for a while. Richie tried to ignore how they both leaned in a little until Eddie’s mother opened the door, but he couldn’t ignore the way his chest ached after.

3

  It would go on to get worse, but Richie got used to it. His morning routine went like this: wake up, change sheets, brush teeth, drink water, take meds, clean any blood or petals that got onto the floor, get dressed, and then leave. He couldn’t eat in the mornings – he could barely even talk until he had been awake for two hours.

  He went through his days as normally as possible: he’d give Bill the answers to the maths homework, give Ben a candy bar, quip jokes about Eddie’s mother. He tried to ignore it, the fact that he was in love with his best friend, but it was difficult. He started noticing more about Eddie, like how he separated his Froot Loops by colour, how he squeezed himself through the halls so he didn’t touch anyone, how he’d stay closer to Richie than anyone else when they went out in public.

  Richie also noticed how Eddie was only ever willing to share drinks with _him,_ he was only ever willing to curl up against _him_ when they were together.

  He didn’t even notice when he woke up without blood coating his lips.

  He only noticed _weeks_ after, when he got sick again and threw up because of it, but there was no blood. No flowers, nothing but nasty chunks and gross colours. He ignored it, figuring it was just a coincidence, but he realised shortly after that he hadn’t spilled petals in weeks. The first day after waking up without his disease, he cried.

  He cried because there were only two options: either Richie had stopped loving Eddie, or Eddie started loving him.

  Richie stayed in bed all day, telling his mother he had a fever, his phone unplugged and blanket covering his entire body up to his chin. He only got out to piss once and take his meds, and didn’t bother to get out of bed the day after. On his third absence, he was shot up around three by someone banging on the front door. He expected his parents to open it, but it went on for five minutes. He groaned loudly and threw his blanket to the floor. “Mom!” he shouted, trying to get her attention. _“MOM!”_

He realised slowly that his parents were at work, and he’d have to open the door himself. He huffed and stood up, running down the stairs. He flung the door open and was about to snap that he was sick, but he blinked dumbly when he was met with a crying, drenched Eddie Kaspbrak. “You fucking asshole,” Eddie choked out. Richie stepped out onto the porch and he frowned. “You _fucking_ asshole!” He launched forward and weakly pounded his fists against Richie’s chest. “Where the _fuck_ have you been! I’ve been trying to call you!”

  “Eds –”

  “DON’T fucking ‘Eds’ me right now,” Eddie snapped. “Where have you been?”

  “Sick.”

  “No,” Eddie laughed. There was no humour in his voice. “No, you’re not fucking sick. You _tell me_ when you’re sick. You _talk to me._ You don’t unplug your phone or ignore my fucking calls.”

  “You’re acting like a jealous girlfriend, Eddie. What the fuck is your deal?”

  “You! You’re my fucking deal! You’re out here with your stupid fucking glasses and your stupid fucking hair! Your stupid fucking music and your stupid fucking books about the ocean! Everything about you is so _fucking_ stupid, and I’m in love with it, and I can’t believe your _bullshit!”_ Eddie’s words had softened as he started to cry again. “You’re too _fucking_ good for this,” he choked out. “For _me.”_

  Richie pulled Eddie into a hug and held the back of his head against his chest. “You’re so stupid,” he mumbled. “You’re so fucking stupid, Eddie.” Eddie whined and he shook his head. He tried to say something, but Richie cut him off. “Hanahaki.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what I had.”

  “The fuck is that?”

  “When…” Richie hesitated before answering quietly, “When you’re in love with someone and they don’t love you back. It makes you chuck up flower petals.”

  Eddie went and stayed quiet. He pulled away, hair still dripping water into his eyes. He huffed softly before grabbing Richie’s cheeks, pulling him down, and slamming their lips together. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist as best as he could, and cursed his growth spurt spectacularly. Eddie’s hands tangled in his hair and he laughed a little against Eddie’s lips. “What?” Eddie mumbled. His teeth clanked against Richie’s and he nearly bit Richie’s chin on accident.

  “Slow down, space ranger,” Richie mumbled back. He pulled away and smiled down at Eddie, pride and happiness filling his chest. He pulled Eddie back into a hug, and groaned when he sneezed against his shoulder. “Jesus fuck, Eds, get in here, c’mon.” He pulled Eddie inside and helped get him dry and in comfortable clothes.

  Eddie huffed and looked up at Richie. He looked a little irritated, but it fell quickly. “What did you say it was?”

  Richie ran his hands through his hair. “When you’re in love with someone and they don’t love you back. It makes you throw up everywhere all the time and it fucking sucks. But it stopped, and you said some shit about being in love with me, so I guess that’s why, and…” he trailed off and looked over at the wall. “Yeah.”

  “Richie,” Eddie whispered. “You were in love with me? _I’m_ the reason you were sick?” his eyes were wide and Richie’s matched his as he turned back to face him again.

  “No! Well, yeah, but you didn’t know! And I didn’t want to force anything on you! Eddie, shit, no, please don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault.”

  “Rich, you went through all of that shit because of me! It is my fault!”

   _“Eddie,_ shut the fuck up. You know it isn’t your fault. Take a fucking breath. You’re okay. I’m fine now.” Richie put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Look at me. I’m _fine.”_ Eddie looked up at him and nodded slowly.

  “You’re okay… I’m sorry, Rich.”

  Richie shook his head and his hand trailed up to cup Eddie’s cheek. “Don’t be.” He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Where do you wanna go from here?” It was the question both of them had on the tips of their tongues, but neither of them knew how to ask.

  “Boyfriends,” he said confidently.

  “Boyfriends,” Richie agreed. They both started giggling, which turned into them laughing until their stomachs hurt and gripping the counters to keep themselves steady. They kissed shortly after, and Richie knew that they had made the right choice.

4

  When Ben came out, it wasn’t a huge shock. She had shown up to a movie night in an oversized dress, and none of them questioned it. It was only brought up when Mike asked, “What do you want us to call you?”

  She replied with a quiet, “Ben’s fine.” and smiled at her hands. “I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner. I thought you guys would react badly.”

  Richie threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “We love you, Benny! Now we have two girls!” he stretched his hand out to Bev. “You guys can be our lesbian moms! Wow, I love my moms. Lesbian moms. _Two_ lesbians!”

  There was a collective, “Beep beep, Richie!” and Ben smiled at her hands again.

  They all worked together to help her transition. Richie bought her a lot of clothes. The first thing he bought her was a purple knit dress that went just past her knees, and she wore it proudly. He also got her her first pair of heels, which were way too high and landed her in the ER with a broken foot.

  It was an interesting couple months at first. None of them knew what to _do._ Eddie contacted his mother’s friend who lived in New York to ask him if he knew anything, and he _did,_ and they figured it out. Ben was a trans woman, and she could start taking injections of oestrogen if she got connected with the right people.

  They had all just graduated high school: Bill and Mike were the only two with cars. Richie was the only one with a somewhat stable income, and Bev was the only one who lived by herself. Bev and Richie found someone in Portland who could get Ben what she needed. Her first shot was… something.

  She was gripping Bev’s arm, white-faced and wide-eyed. “Richie, just fucking _do it,”_ Bev snapped. “If you wait, it’ll be worse. You’re scaring her.”

  “I’m trying!” Richie snapped back. He frowned and looked up at Ben. “What was it you said to us on graduation day?”

  Ben furrowed her eyebrows and she looked at the wall, trying to concentrate and go through her mind for it. While she was combing through memories, she felt a pinch in her thigh and looked back down to see the needle in her skin. “Oh,” she and Bev said simultaneously. They both understood what he had done. It wasn’t just Richie being an asshole. He took the needle out and put his thumb against the tiny hole.

  Bev took the hint and grabbed a band-aid. “You okay, Benny?”

  Ben was quiet, and Bev almost asked if she was okay, but she looked up with teary eyes and a huge grin. “I love you guys.” Bev and Richie hugged her at the same time and they stayed like that for a while.

  It was only a few months later that everyone moved out to New York, scraping together the money to get an apartment with multiple rooms. Ben and Bev shared a room, Richie and Eddie shared a room, and Mike, Bill, and Stan shared between two rooms. Richie and Bev had a bet that they were sleeping in one and fucking in another, but they wouldn’t be sure until they caught it.

  Richie’s job took a lot out of him at first. He woke up at four in the morning and would come home between eight and ten at night. He had weekends off, which he always spent with Eddie, but he was exhausted and low energy. No one liked it. However, he got a promotion in early January of ’96. He left to go to work at around ten in the morning, and came back around six, and he was _so much better._

He had the energy to take everyone out, he had the energy to fucking _talk_ to them.

  The first noticeable difference was about a week later when him and Eddie were, to put it gently, _getting it on._ Eddie was pressed against the counter, hands gripping Richie’s hair and head thrown back. Richie’s head was in the crook of his neck, tongue and teeth attacking the soft skin. “Richie,” Eddie breathed out. _“Richie,_ bed, c’mo – _ahh,_ shit,” he squeezed his eyes shut and whined softly. _“Bed.”_

Richie pulled away and looked down at Eddie, and that was when he noticed. Richie’s eyes were dark, but shining. There was a light behind them – there was a fucking _fire_ behind them. He hummed and rubbed his hands on Eddie’s thighs. “You sure?” he mumbled, resting his forehead on his lover’s. “I could fuck you right here. Anyone could walk in and see us. See _you,_ legs spread, making those pretty little noises I love so much.”

  Eddie shivered and he closed his eyes. “Rich,” he whispered. “I – I…” he thought it over before shaking his head. He scrambled for words before saying, quietly, “I only want you to see me.” He wasn’t sure what it meant, he wasn’t sure if it was something _hot,_ it just felt like the right thing. He frowned when Richie laughed quietly, but it fell when he nodded.

  “All right. Can you get yourself down?” Eddie nodded and Richie stepped back, taking Eddie’s hands in his own. He helped Eddie stand up on wobbly legs. He led Eddie into the bedroom and pulled him back onto the bed. He hummed and chuckled softly. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Eddie mumbled back. He kissed Richie again and wrapped his legs around his hips, grinding down and gasping softly. Richie hummed again and pulled away, which Eddie whined at, but it turned into a squeal as Richie flipped them over. “Richie!” He slapped a hand down on Richie’s shoulder and he started laughing. Richie joined him and pressed his face back into the crook of Eddie’s neck. They came down together, and it was Eddie’s turn to talk. “You okay?”

  Richie nodded and he kissed Eddie’s shoulder. “Too many clothes.” Eddie nodded in agreement and Richie sat up to pull his shirt off. He leaned forward and put one hand on Eddie’s chest. “Let me.” He made slow, careful work of the buttons, kissing the soft patches of skin they revealed when popped open. Eddie shivered when Richie kissed just above his hips.

  “Rich –”

  “I know,” Richie said quietly. And he did. He sat back up to peel Eddie’s shirt off all the way and he kissed his shoulder again. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Eddie,” he whispered. “You’re _so_ fucking pretty.” He leaned down and kissed Eddie gently, hands brushing up his sides to cup his cheeks. “Always have been,” he whispered.

  “’Chee, stop that –”

  “No, I’m serious!” Richie looked down at Eddie. “You’ve always been so beautiful.” One of his hands found itself stroking Eddie’s hair. “I mean it.” Eddie shifted a little and Richie took the hint, rolling off of his lap and moving up in their bed. “C’mere.” The energy changed almost immediately. It had been something intense, something hot and quick and something that had been somewhat common in their relationship in its baby stages.

  It shifted to something softer, more like what they had gotten used to when Richie was working over fourteen hour days, but it was intentional. Richie’s kisses softened and Eddie’s nails trailed rather than dug in, and they laughed when they needed to. Richie laughed when the lube made its weird noises, which was his thirteen year old self shining through, and Eddie laughed when Richie pulled out and missed.

  Eddie gripped Richie’s shoulders tightly and he threw his head back when he came, chanting Richie’s name breathily. Richie buried his face in Eddie’s neck, as he always did, and groaned. Eddie could feel his eyes squeezing shut, his brows furrowing, and his lips parting. He wished he could see it. They got themselves cleaned off and the sheets in the washer and clothes back on.

  “Why do you always do that?” Eddie asked quietly. Richie looked like he was about to panic, so Eddie cut in again. “It’s nothing bad, just… you always hide your face. I don’t know if you know you do it, but you do.”

  Richie’s cheeks flushed and he shrugged. “I…” he didn’t know how to say it without sounding fucking stupid. _Because I’m ugly? No, that sounds bad._ “I don’t like how it looks.” _That’s even worse!_

Eddie frowned and his hand trailed up to cup Richie’s cheek. “Why?”

  Richie flushed darker and he put his hand over Eddie’s. “I just don’t, Eds, it isn’t a big deal.”

  “No.” Eddie sat up and he propped his head on his hand. “It is a big deal, Rich. It’s _every. Fucking. Time._ I’m not mad, please don’t think I am. But every time you…” he closed his eyes and ground his teeth before opening them again and relaxing his jaw. “Every time you cum, you hide your face. Whether we’re fucking or I’m blowing you, or anything. You always hide your face. Is it something I do?”

  Richie shook his head and sighed softly, raking his hands through his hair. “It’s – I don’t like it. I look fucking stupid. I know, I’m a grown ass man, but it’s… I don’t know.”

  Eddie vowed he’d dedicate the entirety of the next week into getting to see Richie’s face.

  And he did.

  Now, the Losers loved living together. They really did. But they found a couple problems. Richie and Eddie were too fucking loud, Stan used up too much hot water, and there were times where everything just felt cramped. They decided they’d move out, not too far away from their first place, because most of them kept jobs there, but not so in the middle of everything. They lived in the same building, on different floors. They could stand to be separated, they needed that, but not apart.

  Eddie and Richie had the biggest apartment, probably because Eddie and Richie had the biggest paycheck. They donned it with plenty of bookshelves and stands for their hundreds of books and nick-knacks, and their living room was cast in bright light from the large windows set in the brick wall. The kitchen was bigger than they expected, donned with a large oven and a couple of nice appliances.

  They used it to their advantage. They were where the Losers would meet up for parties and movie nights and whenever one of them needed to stay somewhere from getting in a fight (Stan stayed over a lot, and he was always gone before either of them were awake.). They fucked on pretty much every surface within the first two weeks, and Richie said it was as if they were marking the places as their own. Eddie slapped his shoulder and laughed loudly.

  When Richie got his second promotion, they had been living in the new apartment for a couple months. He was able to work from home most of the time, which meant him and Eddie got to spend more time together. Their first proper date in months was in the middle of March, and they were able to get _wine,_ because they were both legally allowed to drink, which was nice.

  “Eds?” Richie asked quietly. “You okay?”

  Eddie looked up at him and he grinned, taking Richie’s hand in his. “I’m great. This is amazing, Rich, seriously. Thank you.”

  Richie rolled his eyes and brought Eddie’s hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it. “It’s nice, isn’t it? I know it isn’t the best, but I kind of blew half of the check on something else.”

  Eddie pulled his hand back. “What did you get?”

  Richie shrugged and he brought the wine glass up to his lips. “Something.”

   _“Richie,_ you blew three thousand dollars on something. What was it?” Eddie’s tone was a little harsher than Richie would like to admit.

  “You really wanna know?” Richie set the wine glass back down.

  “Yeah, dipshit, I wanna know.” Richie raised his hand for the waiter and he pulled his card out. Eddie sat there, arms crossed over his chest and eyes burning a hole in Richie’s jacket. Richie took Eddie’s wrist and led him outside. He didn’t speak, which made nerves spread through Eddie’s neck. “Rich, did I say something? I’m not actually mad, you know. Richie, _please –”_

“Shut up.” Eddie blinked dumbly and let his wrist fall when Richie let go. Richie huffed and he looked back at Eddie, eyes squinting a bit and lips pressed together. “You’ve been here my whole life. My _whole_ fucking life. You’ve been here this whole time. We’ve always been _RichieandEddie,_ yeah?”

  Eddie nodded slowly and his heart started pounding. His palms were sweaty, his knees were weak, and all he could hear was his heartbeat and Richie’s voice. Richie took a deep breath and he fumbled around in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small box and he stepped forward, then got down onto one knee. Eddie gasped quietly and he put his hand over his mouth. “No…”

  Richie opened the box and laughed a little. “Do you want to be legally recognised as _RichieandEddie?_ I know when we can do it, but… whenever we can. And I didn’t know if you’d want a ring or not, and I didn’t know if you’d want a chick ring or not, but it was fucking expensive –”

   _“Yes,_ you fucking moron,” Eddie whispered. “Yes, Richie, get the _fuck_ up here.” He pulled Richie up and wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he mumbled against his lips.

  “Yeah,” Richie laughed. “Yeah, I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is NOT over, there is still another part. it may be a while before it is out, but it is there. please do not forget about it if you enjoyed it. it is only halfway/a third of the way done.


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